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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493007">i remember, i remember the days when i’d make you oh-so afraid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/regarding_robyn/pseuds/regarding_robyn'>regarding_robyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP Drabbles/Oneshots [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(in a good way though), (the explosion of l’manberg), Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dark Wilbur Soot, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghosts, I hate SMP!Dream, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Manipulation, Mentioned Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Tommyinnit, Protective Older Brothers, Protective Siblings, Protective Wilbur Soot, Protectiveness, Revenge, So here is SMP!Dream getting what he deserves, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, angry, i guess lol, no beta we die like wilbur soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:00:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/regarding_robyn/pseuds/regarding_robyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I said,” The ghost laughs, and it feels like static and pain and Dream wants to shove his hands over his ears but he keeps his pride. <br/>“My name is Wilbur.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>or; ghostbur wants to make dream hurt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot &amp; Dream, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP Drabbles/Oneshots [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>474</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i remember, i remember the days when i’d make you oh-so afraid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from ghosting by mother mother</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ghostbur is a shell, he knows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur is the vestige of a monster. Ghostbur knows <em> why </em> people look at him like <em> that. </em> He’s not <em> stupid. </em>He knows Wilbur wasn’t good. He knows. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Sometimes he’ll write memory books. Sometimes he’ll throw them into water. </p>
<p>Sometimes Ghostbur will tentatively pick the books out of the water and let the ink pool out of the book. The ink will run down his hands like blood, and it’ll drip onto the stone floor of his sewer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Ghostbur will stare. He’ll watch it pitter patter onto the cold, rocky ground until the ink begins to look like blood pooling in another room with a stone floor and a button. He’ll listen to the quiet drops and the squelches of his translucent shoes <em> almost </em>touching it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’ll watch the ink, and whisper to the room, and he won’t feel a thing.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur doesn’t quite know who he is. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur is ink stained hands and the smell of paper and vacant smiles and blank eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur is yellow. But oftentimes all he can feel is blue, blue, blue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s not quite Wilbur, but he’s not quite someone new either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur isn’t sure why that is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t <em> know </em>Wilbur, and yet he still finds himself mourning who he used to be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur thinks he used to hate himself. He thinks he hated himself, hated Wilbur more than anything, anyone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Ghostbur doesn’t hate. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>All he feels is blue, blue, blue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No, he doesn’t hate Eret. He doesn’t hate Wilbur, not anymore, at least.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But, he thinks there’s a bit of an exception for Dream. (Tyrant, monster, villain, coward, <em> coward, coward- </em>)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream seemed nice at first. He’s not. (<em> He’s not, he’s not, he’s not </em>)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream manipulates <em> his </em> brother, (Toms, Tommy, Gremlin Boy), terrorizes him, and parades him around like a <em> fucking pet </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur thinks that’s where he draws the line.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Dream tries to sabotage Tommy’s beach party, Ghostbur <em> hates </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream tells Tommy that nobody cares about him, and for the first time in a while, all that he can feel is <em> red, red, red </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wants to make Dream cry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Wilbur </em> wants to make the green bastard <em> hurt. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream watches as Ghostbur’s form flickers like static. He gnaws his lip behind his mask and his hand twitches toward the sword at his belt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This could really, really, throw a wrench into his plans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ghostbur, are you okay?” He tries his best to muster up a tone of concern for the ghost.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The ghost mutters something, and it sounds like static. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream flinches back in pain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound grates against his ears. It seems like it should be a whisper, and yet it’s loud. So, so loud. It’s jarring, compared to Ghostbur’s whispery, echoey, soft spoken voice. If screams against his ears like tv static, and Dream’s ears ring painfully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream clenches his fist around his sword handle so hard it hurts. The leather of the sword and the fabric of his glove chafe against his hand and rub it raw, a contrast to his white knuckles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His instincts scream at him. <em> Something’s wrong, something’s wrong, something’s wrong. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ghostbur…?” Dream asks hesitantly, taking a step back from the staticky mess.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The spirit’s form seems to finally settle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looks as if he’s somehow made of static and twisting shadows. His hair writhes and floats as if he’s underwater, the dark, tangled mess of wild, shadow-like tendrils, framing his pale face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The ghost looks up, and his eyes are an empty, inky black instead of their usual murky light grey. Thick, inky liquid dribbles down his gaunt, pale cheeks out of his hollow eyes. His lips are twisted into a wicked grin with too many teeth, more black… goo… drips out of his mouth, smearing against his teeth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur floats towards him, black liquid tumbling down his face onto the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said,” The ghost <em> laughs </em>, and it feels like static and pain and Dream wants to shove his hands over his ears but he keeps his pride. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream belatedly looks down to find that the spirit is wearing his Pogtopia trench coat. It spreads around him, like wings, casting a shadow over both him and Dream</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Burn marks and scorches line his side, as if he’s straight from just after the explosion. There’s a stab wound planted in the middle of his chest, and the same black liquid coming from his eyes and mouth bleeds out of his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream’s lip tremble behind his cold, ceramic mask.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My <em> name </em> is <em> Wilbur </em>.” Grins the apparition, seemingly taking delight in his sensory overload and fear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Wilbur </em>moves closer to Dream’s face, gripping Dream’s shirt by its collar with pale, skinny fingers when he flinches back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream isn’t even touching him, but he radiates <em> cold, cold, cold </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream wants to scream, but his jaw is locked in place. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> It’s so cold it burns </em>, and yet he’s sweating. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His body trembles but he’s paralyzed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The air presses against him and the atmosphere crushes his lungs. He feels like he’s breathing in lava.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wilbur giggles mockingly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s wrong? <em> Cat got your tongue? </em>”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is a bit lazy and i haven’t written in a while lol<br/>thanks for reading &lt;3<br/>comments, kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated!!(please give me clout. /lh)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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